


Pretty Man

by belovedhell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Barebacking, Bonding, Bottom Dean, Emotional Baggage, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Hunter Sam, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Love at First Sight, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Past Abuse, Prostitute Dean, Protectiveness, Raised Apart, Requited Unrequited Love, Rules, Secrets, Sibling Incest, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 03:20:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12224682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedhell/pseuds/belovedhell
Summary: Sam had lost his father, prompting him to stop hunting for months. When he'd had enough mourning he decided to go back to business and kill monsters to cope from what he had lost. Meeting a prostitute wasn't on his list, at all, but when the guy's name turned out to be Dean... it brought back so many memories of Sam's past. The fact that it reminded him of his kidnapped brother.





	Pretty Man

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea from the title: Pretty Woman. This idea had been in my mind for a month so I decided to write it down. Took me a week. Not bad. I really didn't want to make it too long because I was running out of ideas. No sequel guys. Sorry. Comments and Kudos are lovely and appreciated.

It had been a month since John died. Sam was used to being with his father, that without him, everything seemed meaningless. He didn't hunt for seven months, instead he drank heavily and slept around, hoping it would make him forget the pain and sorrow. Nothing worked.

Sam ignored the calls from other hunters. They knew of his father's death, but didn't give a damn about him. John was a great hunter, thereby he was envied by his skills and for having a son like Sam.

All his life Sam had been the perfect little solider for John: learning how to shoot at the age of eight, killing his first monster at twelve. John trained him to be capable of killing anything and anyone. Not only that, but he had the same attitude as his dad. Solemn and deadly.

Sam hardly smiled. It was a rare sight, and when he did smile it was only to John. But now that John was gone... there was no reason to even do such a thing. Sam was broken inside and out.

He was the last living Winchester.

His mom died giving birth to Sam, and his older brother Dean was kidnapped. Never to be seen again. Sam thought about Dean's whereabouts a few times. However, he finalley decided that he was long gone, probably dead. Yet, it never stopped John from looking for Dean.

Sam knew it was because of guilt. John had told him the stories, when he was drunk, how he left both boys alone to take care of a hunt. When John came back to the motel, he saw the door wide open and no sign of Dean anywhere. His five year old boy was gone. John had told him that Sam was probably asleep on the bed, quiet as a mouse, otherwise they would have gotten him too.

The only remaining proof that Dean had even existed at all was a picture that John gave Sam when he was ten years old. It was a picture of all three of them. Dean was holding Sam, while John was holding both of them. All smiling together.

As Sam looked at the photo he gulped down the shot of whiskey he poured himself. He always wondered what would happen if they were still with Sam. Alive. Would they still be happy just like in the picture? Sam liked to believe so.

He put the photo away, deep in his duffel bag.

Enough was enough.

He had to stop mourning for the loss of his family.

Sam needed to clear his head. He needed a hunt. He needed to kill something.

* * *

After doing some research he found a case in California; hearts were being pulled out from victim's bodies. Sam drove five hours without stopping. This was his first hunt without John, of course, Sam had gone on hunts alone before, but his dad would guide or check up on him. Not anymore.

"It could be a lamia," Sam mused as he flipped through the autopsy reports.

He was right. He followed a hooded figure in the alley later that night. As he eyed his surroundings, Sam mentalley groaned at the sight of people leaning against the wall, wearing skimpy outfits. Prostitutes.

He couldn't kill the monster when there were so many witnesses around.

"Hey, hot stuff," a husky voice said.

Sam arched an eyebrow as he felt an elbow resting on his shoulder. When Sam turned his head, he was met with a smug expression and the brightest green eyes he had ever seen.

"Uh, hi?" Sam replied. "Look, I'm not interested. I have to—" Sam halted when he gazed back at the direction where the lamia was moments ago. It got away. There was nothing but a blonde girl talking to a young man.

"That's too bad," the guy did a cute pout. "You're fucking hot, man. I wouldn't mind you fucking me... for the right price." He removed his elbow away, and Sam expected the guy to take a fucking hint when he said 'no'.

"C'mon. I'll make your time wild. What do you want me to do? Blow you?"

Jesus Christ. Sam really needed to get out of the alley, away from  _him_.

"I only have eighty bucks. And I need that to get a motel." Sam shook his head with a frown. He scanned the prostitute's outfit, dressed in: a generic, sleeveless crop shirt and black leather pants with multiple holes. Wow.

"Oh, a drifter!" the guy squealed. "I haven't slept with a drifter in ages. Tell you what? I'll give you discount. You're lucky you are a real catch. I don't do this for just anybody."

Sam doubted that.

"No thanks." Sam twirled around, attempting to leave so he could continue with his hunt.

"At least tell me your name before you go! My name is Dean," he exclaimed. Sam stopped upon hearing that name; the same name that he tried to avoid hearing because it brought nothing but bitter memories of his father when he was wasted.

What were the fucking odds that this guy also had the same name?

Sam didn't know what came over him but the next thing he knew he was in the Impala, ripping Dean's clothes off. He roamed his hands over his body, touching and groping everywhere, making Dean moan.

Sam never liked to be gentle when it came to sex; he liked it rough and fast so it could already be over. He didn't like to be an intimate or caring lover. Yet, he didn't have the heart to do that to Dean—mostly because his name. It hit a soft, emotional, spot for Sam.

"Fuck yeah," Dean panted. "Feel so good, baby."

Putting on a condom, Sam turned Dean around and began to add lube on his fingers. He was not surprised that Dean was not wearing any underwear. He slipped a finger inside, then added another as Dean got used to it.

Dean was already wet and loose— probably from his last sex— so Sam didn't wait as he speared Dean, buried all the way to the hilt.

"Holy shit!" Dean cried, trying to adjust his knees. "Oh god, Sam." He arched his back from the sudden burn and pleasure that coursed through his body. Dean wanted more.

Sam didn't waste any time as he canted his hips, going deep into Dean. His hands were on Dean's pelvis, grasping and digging crescents onto his flesh. Dean arched his back and moaned when he felt Sam's teeth against his nape, biting.

"Fuck!" Dean shouted, biting his hand. Sam pounded into Dean, enjoying his tight channel.

Dean could feel his climax building up inside of him. He wasn't going to last long. No. Dean didn't want the sensation to end, or this fucking experience. He rocked back to Sam for more, and when he did, he nearly screamed as his prostate was hit straight on.

Dean cried out as he came. His back curved beautifully as he shuddered, and his come spewed out and spilling onto the Impala's black leather seat. He dropped his head on his forearms as Sam continued his movements.

Oh shit. Dean's body was beginning to react again.

Grunting, Sam went faster, thrusting deeper, and then he began to pant as the pressure finally hit him. His eyes scrunched, while his body convulsed and his muscles tightened as he came inside Dean. Sam could feel Dean shaking from underneath him. Sam panted a few times, then pulled out when his cock softened. Dean groaned from the loss of his ass being full.

Sam slumped against the car door and took a deep breath to calm his breathing. That was intense. A wave of ecstasy had hit him, and it felt incredible. Sam never had that feeling with anyone before.

Nothing but their breaths could be heard in the car. Both boys were sweating and slightly covered in come. Gross. Sam moved his sweaty bangs to the side of his face, then took off the condom and tied it before discarding it onto the floor.

Dean stretched his limbs, a few drops of come dripped down his stomach as he did so. He sniffed and then stared at his chest in disgust. Sam snorted as he watched Dean sit up straight.

Sam bent down to pick up his and Dean's clothes. Sam threw his clothes at him and said, "Get dressed, then get out."

Dean pretended to look upset. "And here I thought you were a gentleman."

"You thought wrong," Sam reflected with narrowed eyes. He started to put his clothes on.

"I thought we had a good time, baby." Dean easily slipped into his leather pants since he went commando.

"Don't call me that," Sam scoffed. As he finished dressing he went outside to get the smell of sex out of his system. He left the door open so his one-night stand could leave.

When Dean stepped out Sam smacked forty dollars across his chest. Dean barely caught the money.

"There's your money. Bye." Sam slammed the door to the back shut and headed to the driver's door. The car was parked a block away from where he met Dean, so he should make it back safely. Just as Sam was about to get in, he stubbornly glanced over his shoulder. He saw Dean looking at the money with a sad expression.

Against better judgement, Sam spoke up, "What are you doing, huh?"

"Excuse me?" Dean cocked his head up.

"Why are you whoring? I know I don't know jack shit about you, but you seem like a smart guy." Sam mentally told himself to stop, but he didn't. "You look fucking miserable being here. I don't expect you to listen to me. But don't do something you hate. Do something you enjoy. Be somebody better," Sam finished.

Dean appeared to be puzzled because his mouth was hanging wide open. Okay, now Sam felt like a dumbass.

"Later," Sam said, deadpanned. That was the last time he ever gave advice.

"Wait!" Dean started. "Can I sleep with you?"

"You already did." Sam slid into his seat as he closed the door. He jumped when Dean was in front of the window.

"No! I mean in a bed. I'll rent the motel!" he uttered out, showing Sam the money. "We had a good time. Why not do it again later?" Sam was prepared to reject Dean, but when he gazed directly into Dean's soft, pleading eyes. Sam was doomed. Damn it.

"Just one night then." Sam faced-palmed himself in defeat. There was something about Dean that Sam just couldn't refuse. Maybe he needed the company. Sam grumbled as Dean entered the car with satisfied smile.

"Baby, if you keep scowling it's going to stay like that," Dean chided once he turned to Sam.

"I told you not to call me— Oh, forget it." Sam sighed.

He drove away from the ugly neighborhood. Sam would come back to kill the lamia another time. As he focused on the road Dean turned on the radio on high volume, much to Sam's annoyance. Sam immediately tuned him out when Dean began to sing Whola Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin.

* * *

One night turned into three days. Sam didn't like Dean but he did like fucking him. Dean was very kinky, and he knew how to give amazing blowjobs. Although, one thing that pissed him off was that Dean was clingy.

Sam would find himself enveloped in Dean's arms every time they had sex.

After the four day, Sam was finally leaving town. He killed the lamia on his second day after meeting Dean. It was for the best so he wouldn't get attached to the prostitute. His father's words echoed in his mind: Don't fall in love.

As he packed, Dean surprised him with, "Can I go with you?"

"No," Sam said simply.

"Why not?" Dean demanded.

"Because I have my own problems. You'll just be another one."

"We can keep having sex."

"Is that your answer for everything?" Sam wondered. "Go home, Dean." When he didn't hear a reply, Sam assumed Dean left, but he was wrong when he heard Dean speak up.

"I-I don't have a home," Dean murmured. "I live in the streets."

So they had one thing in common: they both had no family.

Sam stopped packing as he tilted his head to look at Dean, who was fidgeting and biting his lips. He was being serious. Son of a bitch. Sam hoped he wouldn't regret this.

"You really want to come with me?"

Dean nodded.

Sam let out a huff, debating. If he looked on the bright side, he hadn't had an ounce of alcohol since having Dean with him. Maybe his presence could help Sam by not ending up like John.

"It's not going to be fun and games, Dean. I have work to do. I can't have you messing me up, okay?" he warned. Sam still had hunting to do.

"Sure. No problem," Dean said, a smile already forming on his lips.

"And I need you to do as I say. If you rebel against me, you're out."

"No rebelling, got it." Dean nodded, trying to remain serious, but was failing.

"And one last important thing," Sam's tone low and stern. "Don't fall in love with me. Understand?"

Dean seemed taken aback by Sam's request, nevertheless, he agreed.  _That's going to be a problem_ , Dean thought. "So can I go with you?"

"Yes. But remember—" Sam was tackled on the bed as Dean kissed him without stopping, thanking him and promising to blow him in the car.

Yeah. Sam was doomed.

* * *

Sam grabbed a few snacks: M&Ms, peanuts, chips, and two sodas. As he walked around the corner, he eyed the beers that were in the fridge— No. Sam clenched his jaws and continued walking around. He didn't want to rely on alcohol to make it through the day. Sam had seen how his father was... and it was never pretty.

"Can I have this?" Dean's voice startled Sam. When did he sneak behind Sam?

With narrowed eyes, Sam scoffed, "You don't listen much do you." Wasn't a question, but a statement. He had specifically told Dean to wait in the car. Sam should've known he wouldn't listen.

Sam looked at the treat in Dean's hand. It was a fucking twinkie.

"Nope," Dean said in a gleeful tone. He dropped the twinkie into the basket Sam was carrying. "If I did I wouldn't be with you."

Sam's eyebrow twitched as Dean sauntered down the aisle. He regretted sleeping with Dean now. If Sam had known he would've been a handful— Well, too late now. Sam couldn't just leave him. Asshole would probably find him.

As he glanced at Dean, Sam snarled when a stranger was ogling his body up and down. Oh fuck no.

"Dean, c'mere," Sam demanded. Like a good obedient puppy, Dean rushed towards him.

"Yeah?"

"You need new clothes."

Dean was baffled. "What's wrong with my clothes?" He inspected himself with a frown. Dean was wearing a white wife beater over denim booty shorts— that he cut down from a pant— and ripped converse shoes.

"Well, for starters, you look like a fucking prostitute!" Sam whispered harshly.

"Newsflash, Sam," Dean half-shouted, "I am one!" Everyone in the convenient store stared at both boys as if they were causing a scene. Sam growled and then walked away from Dean to pay the snacks instead. He was beginning to get a headache.

Dean followed Sam out once he left the store.

Sam threw the items in the car and slammed the door as he got inside.

"Careful with my twinkie!" Dean exclaimed, hurried to save his treat.

Sam glared at Dean and said, "Look. If you're going to be with me, there's going to be some ground rules. Dress casual. I don't give a fuck on what it is, but just don't draw attention. I don't want people to be staring at you."

"Baby, are you jealous—Ow!" Sam smacked the back of his head.

"Hardly. I just like keeping it down low," he explained. "I'm not a good man, Dean. I'm wanted from the FBI. I can't have anyone on my trail. So if you like attention I suggest you get off right now." His tone was solemn and thick.

When it was clear that Sam was not joking, Dean gulped and raised his hands in surrender.

"Alright, alright. I'll get a new wardrobe." He seemed unfazed that Sam was a criminal, but he was scared that Sam would drop his ass right there.

"And two, don't kiss and seduce me in public. I don't want any problems with anybody else."

Dean pursed his lips and said, "Well, how am I supposed to show my gratitude to you then? I like kissing in public. Love it when everybody looks— Oh shit. I do like attention." Dean blinked in realization. "Might be hard, but fine— But it's not my fault there are assholes who can't stand gay people," Dean huffed.

Sam wondered briefly just what kind of men Dean had encountered before.

At least he agreed to the rules.

"Thank you." Sam turned on the ignition and drove away from the gas station.

Dean leaned to the side, practically sliding across the seat to press against Sam's body. Sam shrugged his shoulder a few times to push Dean away, however when Dean failed to move, Sam just sighed and let Dean settle beside him.

Dean rested the side of his head on Sam's shoulder, inhaling his sweet scent of pine and spring.

Sam smelled like freedom and safety. All Dean ever wanted.

* * *

When Sam offered to buy Dean clothes, he thought expensive brands from Beverly Hills like in the movie Pretty Woman. Not fucking ugly clothes from Goodwill. Dean tugged on a sleeve from a clothing rack. He saw the price from the price tag: $3.99.

All his excitement was gone. "This is not like the movie," Dean mused, deadpanned.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I only have fifty bucks. Besides, it's not bad. I used to get my clothes here all the time as a kid."

Dean huffed. "I guess I'll take what I can get." He perked when he saw ripped trousers that had studs on the sides. "Can I get this?" he asked with a grin.

Sam checked the price tag and shook his head. "It's twenty-five dollars. You're trying to get at least two outfits here." Dean pouted, muttering how unfair Sam was. Sam could've sworn he heard the word  _bitch_.

After an hour from searching through the whole store, Dean finally had decent clothes and a few accessories— much to Sam's dismay. Dean changed in the changing rooms, while Sam was outside leaning against the wall, waiting.

"How do I look?" Dean asked as he stepped out.

Sam tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, but his expression shifted when he saw how Dean looked. He looked similar to Sam. He had a leather jacket and a black tee underneath, wearing dark blue pants and brown low-cut boots. If Sam met Dean dressed like that before, he would have mistaken him as a hunter.

"Well," Dean said in an eager tone.

"Normal." Sam cleared his throat and then gazed away. He wasn't good at giving compliments. "Let's go pay for that. Don't bother taking it off."

Dean beamed. Then he put on black sunglasses to finish the outfit. Sam refrained himself from rolling his eyes because Dean was truly happy. Almost like it was his first time getting new stuff.

* * *

They fucked around a lot. Nothing new. Dean loved being manhandled and pinned down. Sam never hurt him like his previous clients did. When they weren't fucking they were driving to places. It felt nice to eat at diners and sleep in cozy beds from different motels.

That was another new thing for Dean: that they were always on the road, stopping at different towns. He found it exciting at first, but when it came during the night... Dean hated it.

Sam would mysteriously leave— to god knows where— leaving Dean all alone in the room. He asked Sam once about it, and he received a simple answer: stuff to do.

It went on for a few weeks like that.

A nagging thought kept popping in Dean's mind. What if Sam was screwing other people? He did meet Dean in the streets looking to get laid. What if he was trying to find someone better?

He needed to know the truth, or at very least, know that it wasn't  _that_.

"So..." Dean stalled. "Where do you go in the middle of the night?" he asked again. Dean propped his elbows, naked from the waist up, while a sheet was barely covering his lower regions.

"Out," Sam said simply. He put on a shirt that he discarded earlier, then began to work on his boots.

Dean pouted. "You say the same thing every time I ask." He crawled towards Sam when his lover sat on the edge of the bed, bending over to tie his laces. Dean snaked his arms around Sam and rested his chin on his shoulder. Sneaky bastard.

"Not now, Dean." Sam nudged him in the ribs from behind. "Go watch TV. Don't wait up. I'll be back late." When Sam finished he headed to his duffel bag, ignoring Dean's hurt expression.

"You're—" Dean sat up straight and dropped his gaze on his lap, "not meeting with anyone, are you?" His voice sounded steady, but Sam had seen and heard the lies from victims through his line of work. The ones who put a strong face to assure others that they were alright.

Turning around, Sam raised an eyebrow as he observed Dean. "What do you mean?"

Dean blushed and bit his lip. "I-I mean that— If you're meeting with another hook up—" Dean grasped his clammy hands onto his thighs. "—I can show you the best places to find someone," he stammered.

Sam's eyebrows furrowed for a moment before he shook his head in annoyance. "I'm not going to look for a fuck, okay? So get that stupid idea out of your head. I already have you." Sam went back to his duffel bag. "Why would I look for another? It would be a waste of time."

Dean sucked his lips, trying so hard not to smile because Sam would question him. Instead he covered his mouth with his hand and let out a goofy grin. He still had no idea what Sam was doing in the middle of the night. But at least Sam didn't go to sleep around.

He snapped out of his thoughts as Sam put salt around the door again.  _Why does he do that at every motel?_  Dean wondered.

It seemed like Sam hesitated about something. About what? Dean had no clue.

Sam pulled something out of his pocket and stalked towards Dean. "Here," he said. Dean's eyes widened when Sam gave him a small silver dagger. "Hold onto this. And no matter what, don't open the door for anybody, understand?"

Dean eyed the weapon in his hand. "Yeah. Why do you carry this with you?" From the questions he could've asked... he asked that one. Suddenly, Sam lifted his chin with his hand, both locking gaze with one another.

"I'm serious, Dean. Don't step out of this room."

Anybody would have been scared by Sam if it was another person. But not Dean.

"I promise," Dean vowed, staring at Sam in confusion. Sam let go of him and sighed, almost in relief. Then he left the room, leaving Dean to scratch his head from their conversation. What was all that about?

* * *

Dean pretended to be asleep by the time Sam came back. The first thing that hit him was the smell of ash and copper that that was radiating off Sam. Yuck! Dean scrunched his nose, then was relieved when Sam padded to the bathroom.

He read the clock on the nightstand: 2:38 am.

What the fuck was Sam doing?

Twenty minutes later, Sam came out and flopped down next to Dean, smelling nice and soapy. It didn't take long for Sam to crash.

Dean took the opportunity to cuddle with him. He would probably be pushed aside but it would be worth it. As he wrapped his arm around Sam's bare middle, Dean felt Sam move closer to him— mostly likely for body heat— he noticed something.

On Sam's forehead there was long, thin gash reaching near his right eyebrow. Jesus Christ. How did he get hurt?

Many thoughts roamed in Dean's mind, wondering the horrors that went on at night.

* * *

Two fucking weeks Dean had been sitting in the motel doing jack shit, and he was tired of it. He had to watch Sam leave every night and come back injured. To what? Dean had no fucking clue!

When he asked Sam about his wounds all he got back was 'none of your business, Dean'. Asshole! Couldn't he see that Dean was worried for him?

Well, not today. Dean wasn't going to stay tonight. He was going to follow Sam and find out what the hell he was doing.

Dean 'slept' early so he could fool Sam. As he heard the Impala starting and driving off, Dean jumped from the bed, already dressed, and left the room. He needed to get a ride quick.

Good thing he was good at getting what he wanted.

* * *

Sam dodged the ghoul's swings, dropping the machete in the process. "Shit!" Sam cussed. He couldn't see a damn thing where it landed, and he didn't have time to look as the ghoul grabbed his throat and pinned him to the wall.

"I wonder how you taste," the ghoul sneered, licking its lips.

Sam grunted. Fuck. How could he be so careless? He assumed it was only two ghouls, not three. Sam killed the small one first before going after the leader. The third ghoul came out of nowhere and attacked him with rage upon seeing his deceased family.

The ghoul's nails began to dig into his flesh, breaking skin, and cutting off oxygen to Sam. As he gasped for air, Sam clawed the ghoul's arms, but it was fruitless, he was already losing his strength.

Suddenly, blood spattered across Sam's face, and with wide eyes, Sam watched the headless ghoul tumbling down the ground. There in front of him stood Dean, clutching onto the machete with dear life. Dean wore a horrified expression; not sure because he just killed a monster or because Sam almost died.

 _Probably both_ , Sam decided, soothing his throat.

Instead of thanking Dean, Sam snapped, "What did I tell you about leaving the motel?" He snatched the weapon from Dean's hands.

Dean scoffed. "You almost got killed! Excuse me for not following your rules, asshole."

"That comes with the job. I could die in a hunt. I'm a hunter." As he peered directly to Dean, Sam added, "You're taking this rather well. I expected you to run away."

Dean shrugged and stared at the decapitated body. "I've been on the streets for a long time. This is nothing. Seen people overdosed. Killed. Rape. Blood is not so scary anymore." Sam saw through the lie.

"Then, why are you trembling?" Sam asked. He could see Dean shaking: his hands twitching at his sides and his breath hitching. Sam had to give him credit for not freaking out.

"I've never said I liked seeing it," Dean replied, finally turning away from the bloody mess.

Sam frowned. "Go wait in the car— How the fuck did you even get here?" It dawned to him that he was five miles away from their motel. There was no fucking way Dean ran or walked there. There was no sign of sweat on his body.

Grinning, Dean said, "I got a ride from someone."

He snarled. Sam shouldn't be angry. He shouldn't even care. Dean could do whatever the fuck he wanted. So why was Sam's heart aching? He shook his head and said, "Then go get a ride back." It was fair, after all. Not because he was jealous.

Dean's mouth parted in shock. In less than three seconds he was all over Sam's personal space, holding onto his face. "Baby, I didn't do anything. I swear. I just gave the guy thirty bucks to get me here." His voice sounded desperate and raspy; it reminded Sam when Dean begged him to fuck him.

Sam let out a huff and pushed Dean back. "Fine. Just go wait in the Impala. I need to burn the bodies." Sam couldn't understand how Dean was doing it, how he looked at Sam with pleading eyes— then bam—Sam would believe him and do what Dean said.

Dean smiled in relief and then gave Sam a quick peck on the lips. Instead of asking questions, Dean rushed out of the house without looking back. Sam had a feeling he was going to tell Dean everything once they were back in the motel. Great.

But before all that, Sam was going to lecture Dean for getting a ride from a fucking stranger.

Again, not because of jealousy.  _For safety reasons_ , Sam said to himself. Dean could have hitched a ride with a serial killer for all he knew.

Whenever Sam salted and burned the bodies he thought back to the times he and his father talked about monsters. However, at the moment all that was filtering through his mind was Dean.

"Son of a bitch," Sam mused. He could almost hear John's words:  _Don't be a fool, Sam_.

Once he was done, Sam got into the car, expecting to ignore Dean throughout the whole ride. But when Dean crawled onto his lap and kissed his neck so sweetly, Sam couldn't reject his advances.

He fucked Dean in the backseat. Rough and fast. Biting him all over, until he could see his own bite marks forming. Dean cried in pleasure, loving the way Sam gave him the attention he desperately craved for. He scratched Sam's back as he begged for more. Dean had never been so intimate with someone before. All his clients were nothing but quick money, but this, was so much more.

It felt like Sam was his everything.

As they finished Sam pulled out and rolled onto the leather seats. Damn it. Sam couldn't believe he gave in. He gazed at Dean, watching as he tried to fit in beside Sam. It was a bit difficult for both of them due to being huge but they managed.

Sam raised his eyebrow when he heard Dean giggle. He prodded his cheek in a teasing manner, then said, "What's so funny?"

Dean craned his head and gave Sam a loopy smile. "I really like being with you." Sam abruptly looked away, masking his emotions from Dean. He could feel his stomach churning and his heart bouncing around, threatening to burst.

Sam remembered having a similar sensation when he was a teenager. He and his father saved a fifthteen year old girl from a vampire; after the case was over both stuck around the town for a bit. Sam bonded with the girl named Sarah. She was Sam's first kiss. First crush. It was the first— and last— time Sam had any form of love. John was more than displeased when Sam told him about Sarah. They had left the next day without Sam saying goodbye.

"Why?" Sam questioned. "You barely know me, Dean."

Dean shifted until he was face to face with Sam. "True. But I know so much already."

"Yeah right," he snorted, sitting up to lean against the car door. They had only known each other for three months.

"It's true! I know you like to read for fun in your spare time," Dean raised a finger, then a second one, "and you love to eat salads because you're a health freak. You hustle money to make ends meet. You have nightmares—"

"Stop—" Dean kept going.

"—and talk in your sleep. You bitch about black coffee because it's bitter. You love this car so much because your dad gave it to you when you were—"

"Enough!" Sam barked. He didn't want to hear any of that.

Dean shut his mouth and dropped his gaze. It got quiet. Uncomfortable. Dean turned the other way around so he didn't have to see Sam. His eyes welled up with tears. The first time he fell in love and it was with a cold-hearted person.

Sam stared out the window, listening to the crickets chirping and owl hooting. Moonlight seeped inside, and Sam could see Dean's tears shining from light. He closed his eyes as he felt a pang of guilt. Fuck.

Slowly, Sam carded Dean's hair and said, "Why do you care for me?" Sam needed an answer. He wasn't special. Just a man who lost everything. What did Dean see in him?

Few seconds had passed, making Sam believe that Dean wasn't going to answer him... until Dean suddenly spoke up.

"When I was six my uncle beat the living shit out of me," Dean's voice was hollow, "every time I would mess up. His family was psychos too. No one cared for me. I don't remember what it was like when I was a toddler— Hell, maybe it's better that I don't. They were probably bad memories anyway. When I turned thirteen, the first thing I did was leave. Left home and never looked back."

Sam listened as he encouraged Dean by scratching his scalp.

"It was shitty at first. Stealing food, sleeping on streets. Then someone offered to pay me two hundred dollars if I let them fuck me. So I did. It didn't take long for more people to come looking for me. They wanted my body, so why not? They weren't nice either. I got beaten up often, choked, and burned," Dean's voice wavered as he continued, "I was just a kid."

Sam never so badly wanted to kill humans until now. There were some sick fucks out there.

Sometimes the real monsters weren't the ones with black eyes or fangs, but the ones who would take advantage of a kid.

Dean took a deep breath. "But you. You were different, Sam." He slowly sat up and turned to his lover. Dean had puffy eyes and a streak of tears down his cheeks. "You gave me advice. You were trying to help me. No one had ever done that for me."

Sam's eyes widened upon hearing Dean's sincere voice. Dean kissed him lovingly, slow but powerful. Sam returned the kiss with just the same force. He couldn't voice out anything like Dean just did. But he could show it. By giving Dean open mouth kisses and sliding his tongue inside, hoping Dean would get the damn hint.

If John was alive he would be pissed at Sam.

* * *

"So monsters do exist?" Dean asked in awe the following morning. Both were laying on the shitty bed, naked, with Dean resting his head on Sam's chest.

"That's not something to be happy about." Sam rolled his eyes. "They kill innocent people. I go hunt and kill them. It's kinda the family business. Being hunters."

"Whoa. What was the monster I killed last night?"

"A ghoul. They feed on humans," Sam informed.

"Gross."

Sam hummed in agreement.

"That explains so much! All those times going out late at night. You're like a badass Buffy!" Dean had many assumptions but he would never voice them out. He didn't want Sam to call him a dumbass. "And you do all this by yourself? Aren't you scared that you will... get killed?" Dean chewed his lower lip. He was suddenly afraid of something happening to Sam.

"I used to hunt with my dad... but he passed away a year ago. It's just been me. Am I scared of getting killed? Not really. I don't really have anything to live for. I just hunt because that's all I'm good at. Good for." Sam seemed crestfallen, and it broke Dean's heart.

"That's not true! You're good at a lot of things."

Snorting, "Fucking you doesn't count, smartass."

Dean winked. "Good to know. But seriously, you're good at a bunch of shit. You can hot wire cars, computers, make ghost talkies—"

"EMF meter," Sam corrected.

"Whatever. You also know how to shoot a bullseye from far distance, perfectly. Play pool and poker. Seriously, you have a shit ton of talents, Sam." Dean tilted his head upwards to grin at Sam.

"You look at me like I hung the moon." Sam gazed at the ceiling, unsure what to say by all of Dean's compliments. It was overwhelming, every time Dean would do that.

Dean scowled. He rolled onto Sam and pinned his arms on the headboard. "Why the hell do you keep doing that?" he snapped. Sam's view was now Dean's furious expression.

"Doing what?"

"Whenever I praise you, you go back to questioning my feelings. You want me to spell it out? Fine! I will. I love you!" he declared, loudly. "I know you told me not to fall in love with you. But I did the moment I met you. I love you. So fucking much. Why do you have doubts? Is it hard for someone to love you?"

Sam squirmed from underneath, his expression darkened as he said, "Get off of me, Dean."

Dean's nostrils flared and he gripped harder onto his forearms. "No. You can beat the shit out of me if you want. But I'm not letting you push this aside." Sam stopped moving as he recalled Dean telling him his childhood. All the times he got hurt and beaten up. Sam didn't want to be like any of those people in Dean's life. Or his clients.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Sam assured, a bit with disbelief that Dean would even suggest that.

"Then stop treating me like nothing!" Dean's voice trembled, letting out a breathy sigh. "Why won't you let anyone in?" His eyes were watery as he locked gaze with Sam's narrowed eyes.

"Why should I? I'm going to lose them anyway. I'll be back where I started. Alone. There's no fucking point. All I had was my dad... and he's gone," Sam screamed, finally saying the truth after so many years of bottling up all his emotions. "Don't you get it? If you're with me, you're going to get killed." Sam shut his eyes when he felt them stinging. "I can't go through that pain again. I just can't, Dean."

Dean stood there frozen. This was the first time he had ever seen Sam so vulnerable. Sam had always been unreadable and emotionless when it came to Dean. This guy below him... was the real Sam. Dean let go of his arms and watched as Sam wiped away the tears that fell from his eyelids, while still keeping them closed.

Caressing his cheek, Dean leaned down to kiss his eyelids, tasting the salty water. Sam's eyes fluttered open, then closed them again as he let Dean showered him with affection. It had been so long for Sam.

They laid there, lost within each other. Sam didn't know what compelled him to talk about his family. But he did— which was a first. He mostly talked about his older brother, but Sam didn't give away all the information: the fact that he was kidnapped. Luckily, Dean didn't press on about his whereabouts.

"So, you have an older brother named Dean?" he raised an eyebrow in bewilderment. "You don't think it's weird being with a guy with the same name as your brother?"

"No. It was just a coincidence. That's the only reason why I fucked you the first time I met you."

Dean chuckled. "Thank fucking god for your brother then! Would like to meet him someday."

Sam made a grim expression, but nevertheless, he held onto Dean's warm body, enjoying the laughter that was echoing throughout the room. This moment was everything to both boys.

Suddenly, his father's words faded from his mind.

* * *

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Sam snarled. "The answer is no." He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Dean crossed his arms and glared back at Sam. "Why not? What's the big deal?" All he asked was that if he could go hunting with Sam.

"Seriously— I hunt monsters, Dean!" Sam couldn't believe Dean's nonchalant attitude.

"Yeah, I heard." Dean shrugged. "So what? I could help you." He was sick of watching Sam leave during the nights, especially now knowing what he did. The last straw for Dean was when Sam came back with a stab wound on his arm, bleeding. Dean watched in horror as Sam stitched himself instead of going to the hospital.

"Who says I need help?" He argued. "My answer is final. No."

Dean clenched his hands into fists as he spat, "You're such a fucking asshole!" He marched out of the room and slammed the door shut. Sam sighed as he ran his hand over his face. This was going to be a problem.

Sam tapped his pocket to make sure his keys were there; the last time Dean was pissed— at Sam— he took his Impala and drove to a bar. Sam couldn't be angry with Dean, he was hurting. Just like he was now.

Thank god his keys were still there.

As Sam stepped outside the motel, he caught the smell of ashes under his nose, much to his disgust. Dean was sitting on a bench and had a cigarette in his hand that Sam bought for him few towns back, and kept blowing out puffs of smoke.

"Dean..." Sam called.

His response was a snort. And more smoke.

"Stop acting like a child," Sam retorted. "What did I say about rebelling against me?"

"Fuck off," he said in a serious tone.

Sam's eyes widened in shock, then he clenched his jaws, trying to remain calm. Dean was pissed. He didn't mean it. "Do you want me to leave you here?"

Dean snapped his head towards Sam, glaring, and said, "How about you stop fucking treating me like a child! You keep denying everything I want and constantly reminding me that if I misbehave you'll ditch my ass to the curb. So fuck you!"

"I'm trying to protect you!" Sam countered.

"How about you leave me to making my own decisions, huh?" Dean threw the finished cigarette on the ground and stepped on it. "I'm going out.  _Don't wait up_ ," Dean mocked Sam's words as he walked down the sidewalk, away from Sam.

Sam shook his head and grumbled. He looked at the light orange sky, and squinted. It was almost sundown. Sam knew where Dean was going.

It took half an hour to find Dean. He was in a bar called Rusty's Tavern; the only bar near their motel. Sam entered the place and peered around his surroundings. He easily spotted Dean across the room, and he did not like the sight he was seeing.

Sam witnessed Dean with a random guy against the counter. Dean had his hand around the stranger's upper arm, probably feeling his muscles since he would do that to Sam.

A twisted knot formed in his stomach as he gritted his teeth. Sam hurried to Dean, to fucking knock some sense in him. As Dean turned he scowled upon seeing his lover, then went back to the guy, smirking.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam asked, scowling back.

"Me? I'm just here having fun with my friend." Dean's voice was high pitched from drinking too much. Sam eyed the empty shot glasses beside him.

"C'mon, let me take you back," he offered. And when he placed his hand on Dean's elbow, Dean nudged him away.

"Who said I wanted to go back?" Dean began to talk to the stranger again, ignoring Sam.

Sam tried again with a little force, promoting Dean to yelp. "We're leaving, now."

The stranger didn't look too pleased when Dean was forcefully being dragged away. "Get your hands off of him."

Sam scoffed. "This is between me and him. He's my roommate," Sam lied, "and I can't have him walking around drunk."

"That doesn't give you the right to take him."

Dean elbowed Sam in his ribs, hard, then scurried away when Sam let go of him. Sam grunted from the pain. Then, as he glared at Dean, who was behind the stranger, Sam's nostrils flared and his eyes darkened in anger.

No. He couldn't get angry. Sam remembered the times his father would tell him to control his anger. Ten seconds went by before Sam let out a heavy breath, and gave up. He could just hear his father berating him for having strong feelings for Dean.

"Fine! Stay. Do whatever the fuck you want," Sam spat. Dean could stay. Sam could get rid of him now. He stared at the guy and said, "Don't forget to  _pay_  him when you're done." His tone was icy.

This time Sam didn't care when Dean looked hurt. Fuck him. And fuck love.

Sam stalked out of the bar and got in the Impala. He punched the steering wheel and stepped on the gas petal. Fuck Dean.

Once arriving in his room, Sam put all his shit in a duffel bag— Shit. He could feel tears pricked his eyes. As he pushed the bag too far at the edge of the bed, it fell. All his stuff spilled out.

And the family photo he hadn't seen in months lay on the floor.

Sam swiftly picked it up, careful not to crumple the picture. Then everything just hit him as he stared at his deceased family. Sam finally let the tears fall. He flopped down on the mattress and sobbed. Sam was, and always, would be alone.

Footsteps headed his way, and Sam closed his eyes when huge hands cupped his cheeks.

Dean was warm and gentle as he raised Sam's head, until both were staring at one another.

Sam could see Dean's face stained with dried and fresh tears. He had been crying a lot because his eyes were bright pink and puffy. Suddenly guilt washed over Sam, knowing he was the cause of Dean's pain.

Inhaling deeply, Sam said in a hoarse, "I'm sorry. I know I'm being a dick and—"

Dean shushed by pressing small kisses on the corner of his lips. "Forget about it," then Dean stammered, "I just want to help you. Be by your side, Sam."

Sam nodded, wiping away his tears. "My dad never wanted me to fall in love. He said love was a weakness. It'll only destroy you." He sniveled as he continued, "I believed him all this time. But meeting you... it made me realize something. That he was wrong."

Raising his hand, Sam showed the photo to Dean, who slowly smiled as he held the picture in his hands. Dean was finally going to see how Sam's family looked like. But when he saw the little boy in the picture, Dean's eyes widened in horror. He knew that boy anywhere... because it was him. No wondered Dean never had memories when he was a toddler, because he was stolen. They were probably repressed from trauma.

"S-So this is your family," Dean asked, slightly spluttering, grasping onto the picture.

"Yeah. That's my dad, my brother, and me." Sam pointed each of them with his finger. "This is all I have left of Dean. Nothing else."

Dean nearly choked, but stayed strong as he asked, "You never told me what happened to your brother?"

Sam frowned. Before, he would have hesitated telling Dean, but now he trusted him. A lot. "He was kidnapped when I was one year old. Dad never stopped looking for Dean."

Dean opened his mouth, but nothing came out, instead he sat beside Sam and put his arm around his shoulder. "And you? What do you think?

Sam shook his head. "I think he's gone. I don't know much about him, only what my dad told me. He said my big brother loved me a lot. Always protecting and holding onto me. I sometimes think about what would've happened if he didn't get kidnapped. Would we be hunting together? Would we be close?" His voice cracked as he took small breaths.

Dean squeezed his shoulder for comfort because he knew Sam got emotional when it came to his— their— family.

Dean was going to tell Sam the truth. However, something stopped him... what if Sam put an end to their relationship? Dean finally got him. And he wasn't going to let Sam go. Not now, not ever. He took one final glance at the photo before setting it aside.

That was the past. It didn't matter anymore. That Dean was gone. He was gone when he lost his innocence. Funny, in a weird way it was almost like fate drawn them together, like they were supposed to find or meet each other.

Dean leaned close to Sam. "I'm here, Sam. And I'm never leaving you. I love you," Dean promised in a whisper. He would never see Sam as a brother, never, only the man who saved and gave him a chance in life. A chance to fall in love.

Sam let out a sob and embraced Dean.

Dean kissed his shoulder as he comfort Sam by giving him the support he needed. "I love you too, Dean," Sam admitted, causing Dean to freeze. "No matter how much I tried to ignore it at first. I can't now. I can't imagine my life without you. Having you has been the best thing in my life."

Sudden flashbacks hit Dean: of all the times strangers had told him that nobody would ever love him because he was nothing. Yet, here was Sam, telling him the opposite. That Dean was important to him.

"Say it again," Dean demanded as he pulled away and gripped his shoulders. He needed to hear it again. Dean never thought Sam would say those words to him in a million years. He had to make sure he didn't hear wrong.

"I love you," Sam breathed. "I love you."

Dean smashed his lips onto Sam's, putting every emotion he had into it. This was what he had been waiting for from Sam: to be loved. Nothing was going to ruin it. Not even the dark secret he just found out. Dean would make sure of it.

* * *

Two days later, Sam made an important decision that he thought long and hard. "Alright. You can hunt with me," Sam said.

Dean, who was eating chow mien noodles, nearly choked by Sam's announcement. As he drank a bottle of water, he looked at Sam like he had gone mad. "Excuse me? I think I heard wrong, can you repeat that again." No he didn't. But he was being a little shit and wanted Sam to say it again.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Really?"

Dean blew a kiss towards him. "Kidding, baby. Go on."

"I decided that having a partner in hunting will benefit me."

"I just want to be right beside you. Helping you, Sam. I want to protect you like you do with me." Dean put on the most innocent face Sam had ever seen. While it was cute, it no longer fooled him.

"I'm pretty sure I'll be protecting your ass."

Dean agreed as he offered noodles to Sam in chopsticks. Sam obeyed, opening his mouth to eat a mouthful of food. In the beginning Sam was annoyed with Dean's constant lovey-dovey affectionate because he was not used to being in a relationship. Now though, he secretly liked the attention and love he was receiving.

"I want you to take this seriously when we're out there. No fooling around," Sam warned.

"Got it."

"That means no seducing."

"Don't got it," Dean joked, earning himself a smack on his chest. "Don't worry, baby. I'll do my best. I won't let you down." Dean promised.

And Sam believed him when Dean wore a sober expression.

However, the next part was going to be a bit harder.

* * *

It was a cloudy day outside, and a perfect day to wrestle on the ground. "If you're going to be hunting with me, I need you to learn how to fight," Sam stated.

"You don't think I know how," Dean challenged, smirking.

"Then come at me."

Dean didn't hesitate to rush Sam. As he tried to punch him, Sam countered his attack and held onto his arm. Before Dean knew it his face was on the grass, while Sam had his arm behind his back.

"Don't get too cocky, Dean." Sam removed his hand.

"Fuck! That hurt. You sure know how to defend yourself," Dean stated, rising from the ground.

"My dad was in the military. He taught me everything he knows. I can't teach you everything, but I can at least make sure you can take another hunter down. Ready?"

Dean nodded. It was going to be a long painful day.

They went at it for hours; Sam didn't go easy on him. Dean practically kissed the grass like ten times. He would practice pinning and head-locking on Sam, but the bastard knew how to get away.

They took a break every hour. Dean was panting and heaving most of the time. He was resting on the ground on his back, staring at the dark clouds. Dean couldn't believe Sam would do this as a kid.

"You okay?" Sam wondered.

Dean made a thumbs up gesture. "How am I doing?"

"Good. You don't know how to fight like me. But you are fast. That'll be an advantage when we hunt."

"How long do I have to train?" Dean questioned.

"Don't know. Maybe a month or two."

"What!" he exclaimed. "That's insane."

"You need to practice. I'm not going to let you go hunting without experience. I need to know if you have my back out there." Sam crossed his arms as he narrowed his eyes. "I can't have you out there not knowing shit."

"Fine," Dean reluctantly agreed.

So they practiced in: wrestling and hand to hand combat. Dean got a black eye when he failed to dodge Sam's fist, then got the air knocked out of him when Sam tackled him. It went like that the following days, then weeks, Dean getting beaten up and thrown down. Sam hated that he was hurting him, but Dean insisted that he needed to do this. So he could help Sam.

Whenever practice was over, Sam would check on his injuries and kiss them, making Dean feel butterflies in his stomach. He loved it when Sam would coddle him. Therefore, he trained harder so he could be the guy Sam could rely on.

It didn't take long for Dean to match Sam's movements, finally blocking his punches. And on one occasion he flipped Sam around and pinned him to the ground, leaving Sam in shock by Dean's sudden victory.

The rest of the weeks were a blur as Dean stopped tumbling down, instead he kept up with Sam's attacks. Lasting longer and fighting harder. He greatly improved. As Dean knocked Sam down, he didn't punch him like Sam expected him to, no, Dean smirked and planted a wet kiss on his lips.

"I win," Dean announced from above.

"Yeah. You did." Sam gave him a small grin, which was a fucking reward to Dean because he had never seen Sam with a smile or anything before. Just the usual scowl, snarl, and frown. Oh, and the bitch-face look.

Everything was worth it in the end.

* * *

"Good job on your first case, Dean," Sam praised. "You improved a lot." He ordered two beers for the both of them from the bartender. They decided to go out and celebrate Dean's first hunt.

"You really mean it?" Dean sat across Sam in a small wooden table, beer in his hand.

"Yeah." They were hunting a vampire, which Sam thought it was a perfect monster for Dean to kill on his first hunt. Of course, they had a rocky start when Dean fell multiple times and Sam had to protect him, but he did it. Dean chopped off its head when he got the upper hand.

Sam felt like a proud brother for some odd reason.

"Keep sticking to it and you'll learn the life of a hunter." Sam took a sip of his cold beer. He enjoyed the taste, a little too much, since he finished it in less than two minutes. Dean raised his eyebrow at the empty beer on the table.

"Want another one?" Dean offered, drinking his own.

Sam waved him off. "Nah. I can't really drink too much. This is actually my first beer in a while. You go ahead." He slumped against his seat and stared at Dean, who was smiling and having fun.

Both men had bonded really well the past month. Sam taught him how to fight, how to break into houses, how to shoot a gun. Dean was a fast learner. He excelled in everything upon seeing Sam doing it the first time. It was like he was meant to be a hunter.

Sam had been miserable since John's death, but now, he felt like he was starting to see the joy in things again. And it was all because of Dean.

As Sam looked around his surroundings, he caught a glimpse of the pool table. "Want to learn how to hustle, Dean?"

Dean smirked and said, "Fuck yeah!"

Making their way around the pool table, Sam handed Dean a cue stick, then racked the balls up. Dean was clumsily with the cue stick. He kept hitting his finger and the platform. It brought Sam memories when he was a teenager.

He pressed his body against Dean from behind and put his arm between his arms. "Here, let me help you," he whispered into Dean's ear.

Dean squeaked when he felt Sam's hands and body on him. He desperately tried to pay attention, but all he could hear was his heart hammering in his rib cage. Holy shit! Sam was making the first move.

Trying to focus, Dean did what Sam showed him. This time he hit the white ball with ease, and it rolled straight into the formed triangle. All the balls separated, and Dean witnessed a colored one fall into a pocket. Wow. Sam was a fucking great teacher. Dean jumped up and down in victory.

"I did it— I mean not as great as you. But I can do it!" Dean smiled. Then without thinking he kissed Sam in front of everybody in the bar. Sam pushed him away and grabbed his elbow; they needed to leave before it got ugly. Sam could see some muscular men eyeing them with disgust.

They hid behind the alley, both of them panting from the sudden run. Sam made sure they weren't followed.

"Shit! I'm sorry, Sam. I forgot we weren't supposed to do that in public. Don't be mad," Dean pleaded. "I just forgot— with what I used to do. I ruined the night— Fuck!"

When Sam turned to Dean and marched towards him. He only said two words, "Shut up," before he smashed his lips onto Dean's. For a second, Dean didn't move, then he melted into the loving kiss, kissing back hungrily.

"Jesus Christ, Sam. Please," Dean begged as they pulled away. "Fuck me. Need it so bad."

"Let's go—"

"No. Right here. Fuck me against the wall." Dean licked his lips, while he slipped his hands inside Sam's shirt. "C'mon, baby." Dean nibbled his earlobe and pressed his hard on against Sam, showing how much he wanted him.

Every bit of common sense that Sam had left were gone. He groaned, craning his neck as Dean nipped his skin. Red marks would appear by tomorrow for sure. "What are you doing to me?" Sam asked, but it was more to himself than to Dean.

Dean knew where to push his buttons, knew how to get him all worked up.

Sam lifted Dean's shirt half-way up, enough to see his hardened nipples and give a pinch. Dean moaned and lolled his head back onto the brick wall. Sam shoved one hand into his pants―

"No boxers?" Sam couldn't help but ask.

Dean nervously chuckled. "Old habits die hard."

Sam went back to his actions, groping Dean's cock, giving it a few pumps to make Dean squirm. Dean's eyes fluttered closed as his lips parted in a 'o'. He gave sweet encouraging words to Sam, praising him for doing so fucking good. If he was still a prostitute it would have been all fake: the pleasure, his moans, his tears.

As Sam got on his knees, he easily lowered Dean's pants and wrapped his fingers around his erection. Dean muffled his own shout when Sam took him whole. He rushed to turn his head to the side to make sure no passersby heard him. They didn't. Thank god.

Sam bobbed his head and gave experimental licks on his head, prompting Dean to silently scream and come inside Sam's mouth. His lover swallowed every last drop of white come, almost greedily, and he pulled away with a pop sound, he licked his lips to Dean.

Jesus Christ! This man was going to kill him. How was he even legal?

Dean could feel himself getting hard all over again.

"Please, baby. Fuck me. Need your cock in me. Need to feel you," Dean panted, voice trembling due to pleading. "Feel me up."

Sam didn't waste any time as he climbed to his feet and fumbled through his pocket looking for a condom. Suddenly, Dean grasped his wrist, preventing him from pulling it out.

"No condom. Just you. Want to feel you stretching me deep inside. I swear to fucking god I'm clean. I haven't fucked with anyone but you," he proclaimed when he saw Sam's brows furrowed, hesitating. "I've always played safe," he added

Letting go of the wrapper from his pocket, Sam nodded as he said, "I believe you." And he did with all his heart. He ignored his nagging brain, which was reminding him that Dean was a prostitute and slept around a lot; he wasn't safe. Sam pushed the thought out of his head as he saw Dean's earnest eyes when he believed him.

It must have been hard for people to trust Dean. Well, Sam would not be like that, like them.

He loved and trusted Dean.

And he was going to prove it.

"Turn around," Sam said in a husky voice, sending a shiver down Dean's spine.

Eagerly, Dean did as he was told, pressing his body against the wall and his shaky hands holding him steady. He heard the sound of pants unzipping from behind. Dean moaned when he felt Sam's cock prodding his ass, then closer to his rim. Then, he gasped when Sam entered him in one swift movement, feeling the stretch he wanted so badly. Dean pushed his hips backwards to meet with Sam's thrusts.

Sam had never been glad for a dark night, where no one could see them. Usually, he was hunting monsters at this time, although at the moment, he was making love to Dean.

Sam held onto his waist as rammed his cock inside Dean, giving his lover what he wanted.

Dean bit his lips so he didn't let out a scream or a cry from the pure pleasure that washed over him. He came untouched when it all became too much for him. His legs turned into jelly and his knees bent as his body shook.

Sweat beaded down Dean's forehead, and his mouth went slack, breathing uneven breaths.

As Sam gave one final thrust he came deep inside Dean, spilling everything into him. Dean mewled, clenching his ass when he felt warm come filling him up. That was different.

 _I wish we were in the motel now_ , Dean thought, bitterly. He could have looped his arms around his lover and fall asleep right there and then. But now, they had to go back to the Impala and drive back, with come leaking out of his ass. Yuck.

Sam pulled out and began to lift his and Dean's pants up. "You okay?" Sam asked, concern lingering in his tone.

"Yeah. It was perfect." Dean gave a lopsided smile. "I like it when you're a bit rough. Makes me feel like I'm claimed." He groaned as he took a step. Yup. He was going to feel it for days.

"You are," Sam said, "by me."

Dean paused. "Definitely not like Pretty Woman. It's better. Nothing like two hunters hunting and fucking—"

Sam glared at Dean.

"Kidding! You really need to take a joke, baby." Dean couldn't help but laugh as Sam twirled around and began to walk away. "Wait up!" Sam did. "You can be a real bitch sometimes!" Dean pouted.

"Well, you can be a jerk too," Sam muttered with no heat.

Dean bumped his body with Sam in a playful manner. Sam grinned, making Dean's heart melt whenever he would show his real self. Not a cold-hearted man born to only kill and hunt.

"I can't believe we just fucked in an alley..." Sam said, sighing. He still didn't regret it.

"You love the thrill!" Dean declared. He brought his hand near Sam's, until they were barely touching fingers.

Sam smiled and laced their hands together, not caring about what others would say. It had been one hell of a year for Sam. Yeah, he lost his father, but he gained someone special.

He turned to Dean, who was beginning to talk about something else. Sam tuned him out. Instead he admired the man who was going to be right beside him from now on. And he was content with life.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Talk to me!


End file.
